- [opening narration]
- Narrator: Some one-hundred-odd years ago, a motley collection of tough moustaches galloped across the West and left behind a raft of legends and legerdemains. And it seems a reasonable conjecture that, if there are any television sets up in cowboy heaven and any one of these rough-and-wooly nail-eaters could see with what careless abandon their names and exploits are bandied about, they're very likely turning over in their graves - or worse, getting out of them. Which gives you a clue as to the proceedings that'll begin in just a moment, when one Mr. Rance McGrew, a three-thousand-buck-a-week phony-baloney discovers that this week's current edition of make-believe is being shot on location - and that location is the Twilight Zone.
- [closing narration]
- Narrator: The evolution of the so-called 'adult' western, and the metamorphosis of one Rance McGrew, formerly phony-baloney, now upright citizen with a preoccupation with all things involving tradition, truth, and cowpoke predecessors. It's the way the cookie crumbles and the six-gun shoots - in The Twilight Zone.
- Jesse James: I've been looking over next week's script where you knock the gun out of Billy the Kid's hand from 4 stories up, half a block away, with a lamp.
- Rance McGrew: No good, huh?
- Rance McGrew: Last year we had a script where one of the Dalton boys got away.
- Jesse James: I know, he TOLD me.
- Rance McGrew: Oh.